


funny, what invisible strings connect us all

by chambers_none



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Work In Progress, azula the normcore blogger, math nerd!toph, sokka and zuko become gym buddies, the kyoshi warriors are a girl gang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:58:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2717972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chambers_none/pseuds/chambers_none
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a story of how the gang always comes together; a story of how their bonds transcend any universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	funny, what invisible strings connect us all

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from “appa’s lost days”- thanks guru pathik! 
> 
> a few things to note:
> 
> -in this au, i couldn't not give the water tribe siblings a texan accent- i was really hooked on the idea that they'd be foreign and yet not, and what better way to showcase that with an accent? i loved the idea that they'd be native american, and though my heart pains to not let sokka and katara grow up in cold icy alaska, i couldn't give up texan-based, native american water tribe. thought i'd mention the reservation needing repairs to highlight the economic blight/mistreatment of native americans that still happens even now. (please note that i am not NA, and if you are and feel offended/want to correct me, don't hesitate!)
> 
> -toph is not fully blind; she's extremely poor vision, and wears glasses, though i doubt i will mention it. except for a possibly-rated scene or two.
> 
> -i wanted everyone in this fic to actually have a reason to hang out (i assume you get relatively busier in college as you age, hence why no one's a junior) and *closes eyes* whoops, *deviates slightly from age differences*
> 
> -as much as i loathe the movie, aang's tattoos were inspired by them.
> 
> -while this is set in new york university, i've taken great liberties with the details, such as their majors. apologies to any current students/alumni reading this- take all of it with a grain or three thousand of salt.

there’s something to be said about the powerful hum that lies in the core of the city, a tangible electric feeling that runs deep in your bones. it’s so, so different from the small archaic town where katara grew up- there, it was pleasant and familiar, homely. verging on sedentary, even. but here in new york, there’s an almost addictive liveliness that she can’t quite put her finger on, so tangible she can almost reach out and _grab it_ -

“earth to katara?”

she got too carried away, didn’t she? regardless, she shoots sokka the best dirty look she can, and he beams at her, wiggling his eyebrows. “now, young lady, let me introduce to you-”

new york. 

it should be worrisome, how that’s said in her head, since it’s accompanied by a little sigh and all- but it doesn’t matter.

she’s finally _here_. 

“now, as i was saying-” katara lets sokka’s monologue drift over her- she’d almost forgotten how his texas accent was barely there now. you can hardly hear its hard twang; interspersed throughout sentences, yes, it was there, but now new york had softened his heavy “r”s and gone were his “ahm”s. she smiles amusedly to herself a little; what would gran gran say about this? had sokka forced his accent down for the sake of fitting in, as he seemed likely to do? she hadn’t seen her brother much since he’d gone to college; travelling back all the way down south was draining on sokka and they couldn’t afford it anyway, not with the reservation needing more repairs than ever, and some families going without electricity. hakoda had had to pay more attention to the tribe instead of them, as chief, and katara understood the sacrifice of not seeing her brother for a year. times had been hard on them all, and sokka’s part-time job at some bookstore had done little to pay for fuel, in addition to having to provide for his textbooks and meals. half a scholarship wasn’t bad; but it wasn’t enough. 

she’d taken a flight from dallas international to laguardia, where sokka had welcomed her- and it only got better from there. not that she’d tell him, though perhaps her running to her brother into an overbearing hug was telling, to say the least. she’s so glad they’ve gotten into the same university- and true, she could’ve gotten a full scholarship at university of california and half a scholarship at berkeley, but sokka doesn’t need to know that. she’d much rather spend her college years in an unfamiliar city with a familiar face, so as long said face didn’t find out. he’d be insufferable, and then where would she be?

from thereon there had been a cab- an actual yellow cab, how _new york_ \- and then they’d passed by skyscrapers and people bustling about, coffees in hand and collars up. there’d been so _many_ of them. even through the windowpane, she can hear so much noise. katara feels thrilled. it’s more than she ever dreamed of.

and then they’d arrive at the steps of nyu. katara finds herself stumbling out, shaken and slightly dazed- sokka had already gone out back to help unload her bags- and she’s still gaping at the sprawling campus. she’s seen pictures, of course- after her work shifts were done and there was little else to help dad or gran gran with, she’d curled up with her laptop, scrolling past images of the university. she’s dreamed so much of going to college, any college, and she’s so happy here she feels _light_ \- 

“so are you gonna just stand there or will i have to carry all your bags as well?”

she shoots another dirty look, this time accompanied by a punch in the shoulder.

-

toph is _ecstatic_. 

she’s finally out of the bei fong estate, she’s in new york, and she’s all alone, just like she wanted. 

someone shoves past her, and then she focuses on the possibly billions of people on campus grounds. there’d never been more than her family of three- if you could count her parents as family, that is- and their little army of servants at the bei fong estate, which pales in comparison to the number of students milling about. she twists her mouth into a wry smile- not all alone, then.

whatever, she can deal.

she continues on, lugging her bags with her- she may look tiny, and maybe she is, but she can so totally deal, _alright_ \- when a voice pipes up. it’s male, but it doesn’t even sound like it’s past puberty.

“do you need any help with that?”

she scowls, then shoulders the kid who’s spoken. he’s scrawny as well, but from what she can see, he’s got wicked tattoos- they’re intricate designs she can’t ever hope to make out clearly, but they vary in all shades of blue and run up and down the length of his arms, what legs she can see peeking out of his khakis, and even the top of his head. they look like arrows- huh.

still, she's not going to be a pansy and accept any charity. she can manage just fine on her own, thank you very much.

“hello?” 

this kid doesn’t seem to get the message.

“i’m aang!” he’s smiling now, what the _fuck_ , was she not rude to him just two seconds ago? he seems impossibly cheerful, and toph scowls even more. however, she did learn manners, and she figured it wouldn’t be any harm to introduce herself, so she spits out her name and continues moving.

“you’re a freshman, aren’t you? well, of course you are, that’s why you have all those bags. welcome to new york university!”

“yeah, i know where i applied, thanks.”

aang lights up even more, if possible. “that’s a good one! anyway, i’m a student volunteer- sophomore, you know- and i’m here to help you out! have you collected all your-”

toph whips around, furious. her bags drop to the floor- her soccer ball rolls away- and she turns around to face him, feet planted firmly, finger accusing. he can’t _not_ see her body language now and not understand what she’s been trying to say. “i don’t need any help! just because i’m a girl, and alone, and i’m small; i am perfectly independent, and i don’t need any help!”

aang’s eyes widen and he raises his hands in a placating gesture. “i didn’t think to- i just- it’s because you’re a freshman, nothing else, i swear-”

she finds the tension in her shoulders lessening a little, against her will. her glare’s stuck on her face, and she’s too proud to apologize. “it’s alright. i don’t need any help,” toph mutters once more, and stalks off with her bags.

she circles the campus for ten minutes, people jostling her, and she can’t read some of the smaller words on signs too far away. she’s lost.

she needs help.

she’s just about to build up to asking someone- she can’t even really distinguish a student volunteer from a student, since they’re wearing tags- when she spots aang again. it’s hard not to, since he’s in a godawful, if fantastically bright, orange hoodie- her face colours and toph wonders if it’s worth sucking it up to get help.

aang waves her over before she can say anything.

“toph, right?”

she nods, mumbles something. her cheeks feel warm, and she wants to drop _dead_. let the earth swallow her whole- how stupid she must be, her father must be right, she can’t do anything without assistance-

“you still need help?” aang’s voice is clear, friendly. there’s no hint of derision, not even a snicker.

no patronizing tone, nothing.

a bubble of hope rises in her chest; toph tries to hide a smile.

-

it’s been a long taxi ride, the back of the cab stiflingly warm, and the news that azula’s transferred from harvard to nyu upon his arrival hadn’t helped.

as if he needs any reminder of how his little sister’s far more superior, and everything he can’t ever be; she’d skipped two grades, and he’d stayed back one. 

she wasn’t supposed to find out he had moved, goddamnit.

more sidewalks, people, buildings blur by. zuko glares. it’s a city like any other, like tokyo, and now he wonders if he should have stayed. azula’s mean streak is only matched by her protective streak, both miles wide. it hadn’t always been like this, of course- ever since the whole debacle with the divorce and zuko’s depression, which had resulted in him staying back a year, which had led to ozai scarring him both literally _and_ figuratively-

well.

the only good news is that azula’s headed for new york next week- she’d wanted some time for her harvard friends, or something- so he has some time to brace himself. a week isn’t enough, but.

maybe he can forget jin, forget his life back in japan, forget tokyo metropolitan which had finally begun to feel like _home_ -

“we’re here,” the cab driver coughs.

-

“i’m bored,” mai drawls.

ty lee giggles, then shimmies to where mai’s hung upside down from her bed. she leans in and gives mai a quick peck, to make her eyes twinkle briefly- not that she could ever tell her that, of course- and leans back to resume zipping up her dress.

“when are you not?”

mai sighs- “let me help you out with that, stupid”- and sighs again. “there’s nothing to do around here. and freshmen are swarming _everywhere_ \- it’s the worst plague i’ve ever seen.”

ty lee examines herself in the mirror. the dress is perfect! it fits her nicely, showing off what little curves she has, and the shade of pink- it's called ballet slipper- is so _pretty_. she beams at her reflection; her reflection beams back.

“there’s a reason why i’m wearing a new dress, you know.”

“so i can take it off?” 

“so we can go out, silly. now, i know you hate freshmen, even though we were once freshmen too, and i won’t say anything about that,” ty lee dodges a swat from mai, ”but i am on the welcoming committee. and you know we’ve planned a mixer here and there. you’ve got to go. we've got to go!”

mai sighs again, but there’s no fooling ty lee. wherever she’s concerned, all of mai’s sighs are affectionate. 

-

suki navigates the hallways with ease. thank god. the other freshmen though- they don’t look so good, and she almost wants to help, till she remembers that her hands are still full with her father’s intricately carved trunk; an heirloom he insisted on bequeathing to her when she’d gone off to college.

“anyway, you’re not really off _off_ , you’re only twenty five minutes away!”

“nice to remember i’m still under your cruel regime, dad,” and she’d to duck away under his fond smile and an even fonder hair tousle. 

“you’re still my kid, sookie bear,” and that had been just been five minutes ago. in fact, her dad’s in front of her right now, carrying the other end of the trunk- why is she tearing up?

they finally reach her dorm, thank god, and no one’s there yet. it’s odd; it’s five o’clock now, most kids have finished settling in at least. or has fortune finally decided to favour her and she’ll go without a roomie? either way, her belongings are strewn everywhere- dad raises an eyebrow and mutters “so this is what happens when you don’t need me to move in anything else”- and she feels guilty, both thanks to her parent and the thought of her roommate coming in to see this, and she starts picking up stuff. 

“need any help, kiddo?”

and she wants to cry again, it’s ridiculous, dad will be so _close, why is she such a sap_ \- and she’s in her daddy’s arms again, snot on his shirt. man, her classmates would love to see that, but she forces down any notions of peer pressure and cries into her dad’s chest. her father presses a kiss to the top of her head- what he can reach, anyway.

“sit down, suki,” he gestures to the bed opposite the one he’s perched on; they’ve somehow moved to the center of the room, and there’s a fierce look in his eyes.

she curls up, knees tucked under her chin. “yeah, dad?”

“you know i’m proud of you, right? your mum would’ve been proud of you too, bud. you’ve finally made it out of the streets; i know it pains you to leave your girls, but you’re finally in university now. a university! can you believe it?” her dad looks around in wonder and awe again, then his face turns somber once more. “i’m so grateful you made it here, suki. truly. i know we’ve had our disagreements, especially over your girls, but you must have known- they couldn’t help you out later in life. they can’t find you a job, they can’t pay your rent; oh, suki-”

and she crumples and starts crying again. there’s so been so many tears today, but she can’t help it- she thinks she deserves it. because her dad’s right; it still hurts to leave her gang, it hurts to be free from the streets, it hurts to be sitting on a bed and having a roof over her head, and she chokes on her snot and tears. 

she’s no street urchin, no longer. she doesn’t need her girls.

she isn’t part of the girls, anymore.

suki clutches her dad when he awkwardly moves to sit next to her; there’s a wan smile on his face and an understanding look in his eyes. he had his own gang back then, as well; then he’d ended up in juvie, and then jail for a while, and ever since then he had struggled to make a living. then suki had happened and he fretted over everything, making sure everyone was on a straight path, but when suki was eight and her dad was always working late hours, she joined a gang.

no big deal, or anything.

except it was and now she’s all alone. suki can be personable, when she wants, i.e in situations of need, such as school and police officers. now that she’s lost without her girls, she doesn’t really know how to make friends, how she’s going to do anything without her girls-

in the end, her roommate refuses to make an appearance. they order two pizzas and polish them off easy, watching coming-of-age movies so suki has a reason to cry freely.

-

jet stumbles into the first introduction seminar, slightly hungover and out of breath.

that’s probably an understatement. he’s got a pounding headache, his mouth is as dry as one of longshot’s jokes, and his entire face is mottled red from trying to run across campus at breakneck speed.

he barely makes it.

luckily, with an auditorium this large, he slips easily into the crowd- and now that it’s college, the professors hardly raise an eyebrow at his distressed state. his shirt isn’t buttoned right- not that it should have buttons anyway, he’s not some prep school rich kid; he smells a smellerbee to blame- and his zip’s probably not tugged all the way up. he might be wearing someone else’s underwear, even.

and his right sneaker has a gum stuck to the sole. gross.

at least he has a seat- he skids to an empty one that smellerbee and longshot’s saved for him, bless them. sure, they’ve only just met three days prior for the first time, but he already feels like he’s known them for the longest age. that’s what you get when you realize that two of your clan members- the freedom fighters, was their handle- from the internet were going to the same freaking university as you were, both as freshmen. he couldn’t _not_ pass up the chance to meet them, them whom had become his closest friends after his parents’ death and he’d only foster homes that weren’t homes at all. internet cafes had become his solace ever since, and he cannot thank the universe enough that they’re not both sixty-year old pedophiles with pot bellies, or something along those lines. he can’t get used to calling them by their actual names however, and vice versa, so they’ve stuck with the usernames.

it fits them, anyway, this little band of misfits.

the dean drones on with formalities: he welcomes them, blah blah blah, reiterates their registration procedure to those who’ve forgotten, boasts the school’s niche, blah blah blah. at one point he might’ve dozed off, but longshot jolts him awake with an elbow dig in the ribs. jet glares at him, though the smile he tries not to hide erupts when he sees smellerbee’s parody of the dean- paki? pokey?- and then he sits up when notices _her_.

there’s a really hot chick sat diagonally across for him, and perhaps if he’d been a male comfortable with expressing emotions, he’d have found her beautiful.

her face is screwed up in concentration, nose wrinkling and lip bitten, and she’s endearing- though he’s not one to admit that. he grins slightly, lopsided: he’d almost forgotten there was a rather huge, well, _benefit_ to college.

_girls_.

he leans forward in his seat to try and get a closer look- he prays it’s not a case of fortunate side profile, unfortunate front profile- and the gods have blessed them both.

she is _highly_ attractive.

in his jostling smellerbee aside for a better look, he sees why she’s hunched over the table: she’s writing down notes. dutifully, like if she doesn’t manage to bullet point the university’s list of social events the world will perish in flames. or something. his heart might melt a little, if he dared believe in such a thing, of course.

then he notices some other dude looking at his girl as well.

-

zuko feels someone burning holes into his back more than anything at first (metaphorical back, of course, it’s really his right side that feels aflame), and to this day it’s what he recalls clearly. his initial thought is that the girl that he's been staring at is glaring at him, till he nearly slaps his forehead at his self-idiocy, because she’s in _front_ of him.

he turns around.

there’s another fresh _man_ glaring at him, bruises under his eyes, shaggy hair, sharp nose that had must have been broken at least once.

his lips curl in disdain automatically, the sneer on his face yet another remnant of his being raised by ozai. he quickly schools his face into impassivity, cool blankness, feigning innocence and nonchalance. he has no idea what’s this guy’s problem- he doesn’t recall seeing him around at all- and he quirks an eyebrow at the stranger before turning back to the girl in the row before him.

it’s nothing, really- he just appreciates a pretty face. really.

he scans the crowd for azula, just in case she appropriates this as something against him, however.

-

jet scowls the entire day.

-  
toph wriggles on the stool.

it’s just a photo taking, for her card ID, but she feels so uncomfortable. she hates getting her photo taken; though at least it’s not a stupid portrait being painted, because her family lives in the renaissance ages. she takes a deep breath and stares resolutely into the camera. she can do this. if she can’t, well, she’ll end up with a shitty picture- which she suspects will happen either way.

it’s alright though, aang’s outside.

aang is surprisingly okay to hang with, despite the fact that it should be kind of awkward, since he’s literally her older brother in this situation and all, but he’s a refreshing take from her stuffy childhood. aang is painfully hipster and new age hippie all in one; he’s carefree and relaxed almost always, and he’s always talking about his pets.

well, not pets, but. he’s training to be a veterinarian, and the animals that he’s made friends with at their local shelter he considers his own. “it’s only too bad i don’t really have my own place; gyatso’s a cool landlord and all, but he’s allergic to animals. like, really allergic. i can’t even sneak appa and momo and bosco home for a bit, since the shelter’s got their rules and gyatso’s got his super-sensitive nose that will _instantly_ tell if there’s been an animal in the apartment-”

toph appreciates aang’s endless bubbly chatter very much. she lets it wash over her like a familiar song on her ipod: it’s good for calming her down. this is the loop that runs through her mind anyway; he’d been gesturing wildly about how appa was so adorable and fluffy, and momo was so clever, and bosco so obedient and creative, right before she’d walked in, to soothe her nerves. 

“one, two-”

the flash blinds her a little. har de har. 

“that wasn’t even three!”

the photographer rolls his eyes. “next!”

-

haru sighs, head pillowed on his bed, but the rest of his body is sprawled on the floor. his mouth is twisted into confusion, unsure of what to settle on: the other half of the room is probably to blame. he hadn’t expected anyone to settle so quickly into gramercy green, seeing as it isn’t one of the summer housing estates, and generally, non-freshmen don’t appear this early. of course, there’s the welcoming committee with their little army of preppy student volunteers, but what were the odds?

haru sighs again and reaches for the beer can that he’s already spilled half of on the floor next to him. this will probably be a regular occurrence, seeing as he doesn’t cope well with the artistic types.

he re-examines the wall papered before him with posters of endless bands he’s never heard of; polaroids and glossy printed photographs; what could’ve been considered pretty good art if they hadn’t been defaced as backgrounds for spiritual quotes. he gulps down more beer. at least hippies have weed, he reasons. that’s a not-so-bad price for unlimited weed. he tells himself he can already smell the marijuana. 

“weed,” he chants to himself. perhaps he may be drunk, and perhaps it may only have just struck noon, but he _had_ arrived four hours ago to a ghastly redecoration of an otherwise innocuous dorm. he has legitimate reasons for drinking half his stash on hand. at least the guy seems to be rather rational when it came to an actual academic career: call him whatever you want, but when haru was rooting around his roomie’s half of the room, there hadn’t been any philosophy textbooks, or anything along those lines. all he’d found was “essentials of american government: roots and reform”. political science student, then. 

“-that’s impressive, i mean yeah i’ve figured out what i wanna do, but not many people have, really,” a voice floats in, the doorknob twisting open. haru’s stomach is twisting open, too. “so how did you decide on math- oh!”

haru gets to his feet, a little bleary and dread rising in him like a sluggish tsunami. whatever. alcohol has its merits, too. just not in situations where you’re forced to accept the reality of a roommate whom you obviously can never relate to. he’d just gotten lucky with sokka as his roommate last year, and it had been beyond surreal: ridiculous dares with even more ridiculous stakes; bonding through their multiple horrid hangovers (as sokka had solemnly declared to excuse his puking on haru’s borrowed library texts); endless hours in front of the xbox; terrible attempts at picking up girls (and the times they had achieved liftoff- this was followed by one of sokka’s godawful puns about “rising”- it had always been on the same night or on consecutive nights, as if their bromance was determined by the fates to be far too true to let one suffer by his lonesome). obviously, haru’s never going to replace sokka in his hearts of hearts as the ultimate bro, but he _had_ hoped that his new roomate would at least be like, half as awesome. that’s all he had asked- _hoped_ for.

god is cruel, obviously.

“uh, hey,” he offers feebly, rocking back and forth on his feet. he shoves his hands in his pockets, casting about for something to talk about, anything to break the ice, really.

then he notices the girl next to his roommate.

oh.

she’s ethereal, and if ty lee, one of his old high school’s flock had been there, she’d have said something like her aura was muddied by her clothes. the girl’s dressed in baggy khakis and scuffed sneakers, the neck of her shirt big enough to fall on her shoulders- though that was probably intentional, a fashion trend haru clearly couldn’t be bothered with- and she looks so unassuming, her probable five feet dwarfed by the guy’s six, and she looks as confused as he is, and she’s got such pretty green eyes-

“you must be haru!”

there’s a silence in the room which quickly develops into an awkward one until haru realizes he’s supposed to respond. “oh. oh yeah, you must be-”

“aang, and this is toph,” and toph pipes up, “i’m a freshman.”

is this the reward for being a student volunteer then? the freshman of your dreams? man, haru has got to schedule this out next year.

“so-” aang’s clearly nervous now, uncomfortable with having to juggle his companion and his roommate like a social acrobat performance from hell. _huh_ , even ty lee couldn’t manage this. haru takes a deep breath and steps forward, raises his palms. 

“nah, i get it, you have your girl, you can have the room-” he doesn't know why he says that. haru’s an idiot like that.

the pair immediately jump apart, and toph- gets angry. like, really mad. it’s kinda hot. “we’re not together!” it would be a shriek, if it hadn't come from anybody but that diminutive girl- odd. haru intends a grin, but he’s afraid it comes out rather smug, because frat boy he may be, but he’s not going to steal someone’s girl. 

haru raises his hands in surrender. “sorry, sorry, my bad. really though, you guys can have the room, i don’t mind-”

aang grins. haru’s stomach feels uneasy. “it’s alright buddy! we can like, do something together-”

“what,” toph snorts, “play monopoly, bet our oreos?”

aang glances around, eyes shifty. “well, i don’t have oreos, but i do have monopoly?” 

haru blanches. come _on_.

-

haru loses. badly. he loses all his candy and beer- they’d made a quick run to the nearest drugstore to up the stakes, and had spent five minutes of chasing one another down the aisles shouting their snack of choice- and when they had actually settled round the game board, he realises he’s horribly outmatched. toph is merciless- she cashes in quick on every property, and she’s smart enough that that she occupies half of every colour group but dark purple and green- which is redundant anyway- before both the other players realizes.

“my father’s a businessman,” she grins lewdly.

aang is even more devious than he’d thought possible for a hipster- he seems nice, with his baldness and horrible band posters that sit in the background like it’s meant to lull him into a false sense of security (which succeeds), and he snatches up the railroads, mortgages practically _everything_ , and leaves haru betrayed and agape.

“i thought you were nice!”

“turn over your hershey kisses and budweisers, haru,” aang clucks.

-

katara finishes decorating her side of her room- her roommate, toph bei fong, as the packet had informed her, had only been here to dump her stuff and leave for god knows where (really, she didn’t know where other freshman would choose to loiter, since it’s only the second day, and they couldn’t possibly be going out to party or otherwise socialise already, could they?)- and she steps back to admire her handiwork.

“boo!” 

she jumps, but she doesn’t even to turn around to glare at the goofy smile her brother probably has hidden in the shadows. “sokka, i know it’s you.”

“but you got scared anyway, aha! hey- why is your room so nice?”

this time katara does turn around and raise an eyebrow. she clucks her tongue, and her hand is on her hip, and she feels like a mother again- god, she’d missed taking care of sokka. in that moment her heart breaks and blood gushes forth, but it mends too, each stitch a reminder of why she hadn’t gone completely mad after her mother’s death. because sokka, and dad, and the kids in the tribe- they’d kept her together. they’d been _family_.

but college had come calling, and sokka had left. a whole year, with nothing to show for their bond except weekly, sometimes fortnightly skype calls and the bi-monthly cash he tried to send home (always via mail, otherwise it would’ve been rejected; sokka needs the money, too). and katara had broken into little pieces, fissures and fractures showing clearly where previously sokka had been the glue to hold her together. sokka hadn’t been there to worry, to fuss about, to make sure he had a balanced diet- and it was so, so unhealthy to channel her energies into taking care of people, but that’s who katara is. she doesn’t turn her back on people who needed her- and she still remembers her brother, at seven and trying so desperately not to need people.

she had bawled all night for mum, but sokka: oh, sokka. he let a few tears escape at the news of their mother’s passing, but that was it- for the rest of the night, he held her, face stoic as a little boy can manage. but even then katara knew that something was wrong.

her mother was dead, but sokka was- alive, but not really.

so she pushes him. she makes her brother do his homework, she buys more vegetables when she’s at the grocery store because that’s just what you do, she runs the house just like she remembers her mother doing- she strains so much to remember, but she’d only been five and all she sees are hazy memories of her mother’s feet bustling about in the kitchen; her shouting into their backyard to announce dinner; her doing the laundry in front of the television, cartoons katara had chosen, been completely immersed in. so she fails, but she learns a lot on her own too, and she succeeds. but her success at being the woman of the house was only noteworthy as sokka being himself again, so she tries so hard to draw himself out of the pit he fell in the evening their mother died.

“because it’s actually clean, sokka? ever thought about that?”

sokka shrugs. “eh. it’s college. clean rooms aren’t meant for college!” 

katara huffs and makes as if to do arrange her clothes in the provided wardrobe, but she smiles when sokka can’t see.

she can always stop by sokka’s later.

-

“so, you’re suki cheong,” azula drawls.

the girl in question is frightened, eyes wide and frankly, too puffy and red. azula tuts in her head. this is only going to be too easy to whip her into shape- she’s misses harvard, which was crawling with potential minions, really. supposedly all of them had had brains but it was quick work from the time azula had stepped onto campus- _boring_.

but of course. she’s azula izanagi, what is one to expect?

the girl surprises her.

“yeah, i am-” and she draws herself up, tucking her hair behind the ear in a swift enough move that azula nearly misses it for it’s true purpose: smoothing her bedhead. it’s a minor thing, but it helps. not as much however, as what follows: another testament of how appearance meant nothing when your posture means everything. the girl narrows her eyes into slits, her head held regally. as if they were _equals_. her chin is jutted out far enough that it looks like _she’s_ the one assessing azula, and her eyes, puffy and red though they were, sweeps over azula like she’s nothing.

at this rate, azula might have to actually remember her name.

this is rare, one must understand. azula izanagi is not easily impressed- hasn’t been since she was six. but the girl in front of her- suki- is wearing the most despicable of pajamas, covered in stains and a faint odour, ratty and sporting an innocuous hello kitty; and yet she commands azula’s attention. “who are you?”

hm. so she doesn’t know who azula is. or, well, who azula is to her. maybe she’s not that worthy after all.

“your roommate?” she makes sure to raise an eyebrow and give her best unimpressed look. 

“oh- oh,” suki falters, then after a moment, adds, “i didn’t read the packet.”

“clearly you didn’t.” azula feels disappointed, almost- she _liked_ challenges. 

suki glares, tossing her hair- azula tries not to raise her eyebrow any higher or she’d look demented, she knows this, she used to practice facial expressions in the mirror as a child to control everything she was broadcasting. “well, at least you showed your being a bitch this early. nice to meet you, i’m sure we’ll have a great year together.”

if she had hackles, they’d have risen. _no one_ speaks to her like that. “maybe not a full year, if i can convince the dean they let a street urchin slip through their paperwork and into this _institution_ ,” azula snarks back, making sure the emphasis on the last word is enough to sound every bit agni corp’s heir.

suki rolls her eyes at this, but she’s bristling, clearly offended. huh. maybe she’d struck a nerve.

“at least i didn’t buy my way in, _princess_ ,” suki spits out. each syllabus feels like a dagger in the gut, serrated and laced with poison.

this time, there’s no holding back. how _dare_ she. azula prefers to be dignified, but sometimes she spoils for a good fight and no one gets away with assuming she’s of little intellect. she throws herself at suki, howling, tackling the girl before she can react.

suki stiffens under her, then thrashes. she has a mean right hook, and azula knees her- where, she doesn’t know, it’s clear that suki’s better at hand-to-hand combat than she is, and she’s scrabbling, trying to find something that’ll give her leverage- when suki _lifts_ her and shoves her against the wall.

“i don’t know what your problem is, princess, and i don’t really care, but, this is just a reminder: we’re living _together_. i could _strangle_ you in your sleep,” suki’s panting and her eyes are terrifying, capable of immense violence she doesn’t spare a thought, and they’re both perspiring and she spits in azula’s face, “bitch.”

azula makes to shrink under suki’s gaze, pinning her to the wall as much as her hands are, and she tries not to giggle. she knows the look in suki’s eyes, has seen it in the reflection before, has had zuko sidestep away from her because of it before.

this is going to be so much fun.

-

lana del rey is playing when he walks in the tea shop.

he’s halfway out of the door, sure he’s in the wrong place, when his uncle bustles out, “zuko!

the prodigal nephew has returned! come, come, sit.”

zuko sits, feeling wholly disoriented. possibly this is how alice felt when she arrived in wonderland. sinisterly enough, everything looks familiar, homely, but the radio in the background makes it feel so surreal he thinks he might be hallucinating. the long (eleven-hour) flight has him exhausted, greasy, disgusted with said greasiness, and light-headed. so he might be hallucinating.

“- couldn’t make it, but as you know, the jasmine dragon is busy at this time of the afternoon, it’s too bad jiro bailed on her shift, i had signs made for your arrival! they’re around the back, i’ll show you,” when uncle finally slows down, reaching to bundle him up in a hug. zuko flushes, trying hard not to flinch, but something must show on his face, because the lines around his uncle’s eyes are suddenly undeniable. the quiet sadness iroh tries not to show is admirable, of course, but zuko is caught hot and uncomfortable by attention so focused, so caring, he has to look away. “no, no, silly me,” iroh mutters to himself more than anything, “i forgot to ask, have you eaten, zuko?”

zuko presses his lips. he’s hungry, and weakened by terrible airline fare he had maybe five hours ago, but he’s also craving for a proper bed really badly. “uh, if you wouldn’t mind uncle, i’d much rather-”

“yes, yes of course! come with me, your room’s on the third floor.”

iroh hums on the way up, _i got my red dress on tonight. dancing in the dark in the pale moonlight_ , and zuko finds himself humming back. they share conspiratorial smiles, because even if he would be embarrassed to have iroh doing this in public, azula’ll have it worse. they troop past creaky, lived in hardwood floors, and stacks of boxes attempting obliviousness. clearly, iroh is only organized and clean where he needs to be- zuko peers into these, and it’s a lot of junk. sentimentality, then, or perhaps laziness. or maybe iroh’s a hoarder- it makes sense, since zuko’s taking what seems to be basically the attic, and iroh had to clear it out for him. 

the door is unassuming, when they finally reach the third floor. it had been a squeeze on the way up, almost, since the top floors of what houses the jasmine dragon seems to revolve around narrow, long corridors, and wide-stepped staircases. zuko notices iroh’s slight hitch in breathing, and resolves to make him come up as little as possible; it’s good he’s stayed on the second floor.

it’s quaint, the room, overlooking not much other than half a busy courtyard which segues into even busier alleyways. zuko’s not sure how new york works, but the concrete here seems dirtier than in tokyo, somehow. he suddenly misses jin, misses his gardens.

“it’s, uh, nice, thanks uncle,” and the beam he receives is worth voicing even such little things.

“i’m glad you think so, nephew. now, i’m on the second floor, so i won’t be able to hear anything really, but if you do bring a lady friend over, you’d need to pass by my room. isn’t that wonderful?”

-

**Author's Note:**

> been wanting to write a modern/college au for ages, and this post was my inspiration; exactly what i needed to kickstart that urge: http://batcii.tumblr.com/post/92430703283/smoo-told-me-to-draw-zutara-week-stuff-so-instead
> 
> it is also inspired by two great fics i recently stumbled across- "the ties that bind" by chromeknickers on ff.net and "the taming of the shrew" by setlib, also on ff.net.
> 
> this is unbeta'd! (i would love it if anyone could help out with this.) clearly, it's in its early stages yet. i have ambitions for it to be a multi-chaptered series delineating their four years at university, with some outtakes. for readers hoping to get updates/etc, only one chapter will be devoted to each year at college. hence, you'd have to pop by maybe weekly to see if i've tacked on any new bits at the end. for those interested in sporadic updates, i will have those own my LJ @ reparture.livejournal.com to announce that a significant marker of time has passed (e.g their first day/one week/etc).


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